Darker Cloud
by Silent-Whispers-Death
Summary: Takes place 2 years after Dirge Of Cerberus. After being gone two years, Cloud returns a total different man. Vincent becomes suspicious, and looks for the answers on Cloud's behavior, while Tifa falls back into the arms of the new Cloud Strife. Revamped.
1. Yesterday Was Hard, On All Of Us

**Author's Note: **

Here you go, the official renewed first chapter of Darker Cloud. I'm excited to boot the old chapters that bring me back to my youth, in remembrance of how young and careless I used to sound, the good ol' days. We're all old and boring now..! To catch you up to speed, I'm not focusing on any other projects I may have mentioned years ago (seemingly decades, even centuries). My main concern is not becoming absent-minded, and letting the story collect dust again. I'm going to be storing the old chapters in documents to keep track of the plot or anything I may have presented, and I will be deleting the old chapters from the content and starting it all over. Keep in mind that the original plot stands, but the feel of the story will be rather different. It's going to be more engaging, more particular and straightforward. I'm expanding more on what Tifa had gone through before Cloud returns in this first Chapter, focusing on the difficulties it presented and the obstacles it created for her and the people around her. Of course I'm directing this toward the people who have been following this story from the very beginning, and have read the old material. To the newcomer's, I'm glad you will be reading the revised version of Darker Cloud instead of the rough drafts, because it is so very embarrassing reading back on the old chapters (_). I want to present you with another huge gigantic apology, and also thanks to whoever decides to stick by DC with your support instead of getting sick of my all-but-exciting incomplete promises. Please enjoy these new installments, as it leads up to the continuation as I further the depth and revelations of this series. Excuse the conservation of revealing too much, I enjoy cliffhangers as a crash victim enjoys painkillers. Let it begin!

Disclaimer: I have no owning of Final Fantasy VII, or any professional claims whatsoever.

~Silent

_Just let me revel in your blue notes.  
Who was it sitting here,  
Yesterday,  
Saying that I'm leaving in a hurry,  
Oh, my bad._

_Lyrics throughout this Chapter, by -Fink_

* * *

Pitter-patter, pitter patter goes the heartbeats a lifetime ago. But today, they beat no longer at ease. Tifa Lockhart was born a different woman when the absence hit her like a revolving door without warning. And even after a year, that moved like the fat hand on the clock, the pain of that absence was all but too clear, like revisiting a memory through a video recording. But she could play it off, yes, even pretend to be indifferent to the fact, like it had been an April fool's joke that she had fallen too easily for. It was difficult to manage her new life without the business partner, slash father-figure for the orphans they fostered. It was challenging to run a bar with aggravating regular costumer's that would cop a feel every now and again that she would have trouble preventing because of her dozing and her lack of fervor and keenness. She could retaliate, she could be tough, but she couldn't save herself from the nightmare that she relived every day when being reminded of his loss by the emptiness of the place they had once shared. Where did she go wrong? Who could she blame, but herself? Yeah, maybe she could be a pest sometimes, with her womanly obligations, and maybe her over-affectionate inevitability. Maybe even her mindfulness of the past, her anxiety of loss, mustn't forget her ability to leave the floor wet and the rug drenched after a shower. But was it so horrible, so ghastly to stick around and endure it? Maybe even overlook the imperfections of Tifa Lockhart..? The answer was obvious, all she needed to do was look in a mirror and see who was beside her…

The bar counter couldn't be any shinier; it has gotten its greatest clean yet as Tifa was lost in translation, a riveting circular motion. If she had paid much attention, she probably would've realized the pains in her forearm or the soreness in her fiery tomato red fingertips as they ripped through the paper towels. But she kept on like there was some purpose she was going to fulfill by continuing the tirade on the counter-top with her anger directed at the paper towels. But the circular motion raged on, even quicker as she was losing her composure, sanity slipping from her grasp. Her lips curled, and her brows furrowed while the anger overwhelmed her, consuming the very bits of strength she had mustered to remain. Before she could break into the tantrum she so eagerly projected, a small soft hand grasped the top of her hand quickly, as if to stop her from sudden destruction. Her eyes were steady on the hand that clasped hers, surprise seeping from her eyes. Denzel breathed slowly, a solemn look on his face that he had used in the past to tame her, cultivated her even. But it wouldn't work on her anymore; she felt like the clown in the box that someone hadn't coiled in centuries. She was ready to pop out of that box, to be released from the anguish. She was drowning in despair. There was nothing else holding her to this planet, not even the small smile that creased the little boy's lips in an attempt to brighten her distasteful mood. But the children had held her and cultivated her on this planet by a strand, however thin that strand was.

She was out of apologies; she was out of the guilt discussions she had repeated over and over to little Denzel and Marlene. She was no longer the mother for them, the one that showered them with love and care. They barely got edible meals any longer, she would either overcook their meals, or under-cook them. She was bombarded with the burden of being a single-parent to the children who so desperately deserved what they had lost. But what much could she do, when she suffered a great loss as well? Two negatives do not create a positive; it just created more negatives, a swamp of endless dead-ends, and incompetence to live a proper life. Cloud Strife had taken everything with him when he left that cold morning, he might as well have taken everything else with him. The apartment, the bar, his damn toothbrush! She couldn't bear to remember him anymore, his face, and those blue eyes that glowed like a nightlight in the shadows. He was her misfortune, to say the least. Like a bad dream that wouldn't go away. There was no solution, not even Vincent Valentine. He could maybe tend to her wounds, but without results. He was the only one that had kept her alive this past year of her ongoing lurid life. It was even a tough take for Vincent, alone. He was the only one that hadn't given up on the promise of revitalizing Tifa, to get her back to the lovely and exquisite woman she had once been. But she had lost her tremors of life, the signs of coming back to herself she had shown after a year. But it wasn't long before he caught on that it was an act. _"Remind me to set you up on an audition; you're perfect at pretending, Tifa."_

His humor wasn't humorous underneath the surface; Tifa had become the crackjob that everyone would jester over, the type that was lobotomized because of their lack of humanity and grip on reality. Worst of all, she had forgotten her anchor; she lost sight of the hope that had stranded her to a faithful place. Despite Vincent's desperate attempts, nothing could fill the empty hole. No one could place the serenity back in her presence, or refill the costumer's drinks, or make the late-night deliveries, or tuck the kids into bed for her. Vincent could fill in from time to time, realizing that she was lacking that extra hand, but once he satisfied her wounds with a band aid and left them to heal; they would bleed through and cause irritability again. The solution wasn't another body to fill his shoes, because no one could replace him and suddenly make it all better like a surgery could heal a problematic injury, this was permanent damage. . .

Incurable.

And her solution to the problem would be perpetual also.

She could barely answer Denzel's worried gesture, as he prompted her to answer him. She was at a loss for words, realizing that there was nothing she could say this time to water it down. Her behavior had worsened, and the children knew that, she was aware they knew that. There was no reason to downplay it, and they had grown used to her overlooking her mistakes, and ignoring their worried glances and attempts at resurfacing her drowning former self. "Denzel, brush your teeth, Marlene and you both. I'll load your bags in the car." She looked at the clock on the wall, studying the time. Her eyes widened in her observation, seeing that she had lost track of time. "Oh my, I must've been dozing off for quite some time. I was supposed to have you at Barret's two hours ago. Be hasty, I'll finish up down here." Denzel stared at her for a couple of seconds, he was counting on her acknowledging her trances that had grown violent this time, but she was hard to crack. It was like trying to put two magnets together, the resistance was incredibly difficult to push against, especially for a young kid to try.

Her eyes were empty and tired, the effort she wanted to perform was powerless to inspire her, she left him to wonder and there was not much else he could say. She dropped the mangled paper towels in a bin, and wiped her hands of it while she wandered over to the phone, seeing that there were 10 missed phone calls and 3 voicemails. Some were from a berating Barret who inquired on her condition once again, asking if he should just pick up the little munchkins himself. And the very last voicemail would be from the one and only Vincent Valentine, disturbed by her distance and privation. He was still fretting about the night she disappeared when the kids were away with Barret, he had searched for her high and low in all of the places Yuffie had assumed she'd be. He ended up finding her in the back of the bar behind the trash cans, passed out due to an over dose of alcohol on her way to dispose of the evidence of her binge. If he had been a second late, he would've lost her… and that would've been the worst loss of this ongoing battle. Yes, he was still paranoid over that, she could detect it in his tone of voice. She began to realize that she was his misfortune. What a vicious cycle this all had become.

The tinge of pain in his voice was apparent, though he coveted it frightfully well. But she knew that voice. She knew the "and's" and the "but's" and the "hopefully's" all too well coming from Vincent, she couldn't help but feel like a hefty burden for Vincent. She had been such a basket-case the past summer, like having to deal with a drug addict undergoing withdrawals, and a knack for welcoming any hindrance at improving. She frowned on that note; she had more than enough influence to end this for everyone she was making miserable in the process of her existence. Yes, it had become a_ process. _It was that severe now. Vincent always acted, better yet, pretended is a better word… he pretended to not be bothered by dealing with her outbursts, well, the aftermath of those outbursts per se. He was like a caregiver, she felt like an elderly person in a nursing home, for she had no more willpower to do humanly obligations on her own accord.

But Vincent was gentle with her, tender in his speech when confronting the issue. And even when she'd wince at hearing his name, he would stroke her cheek with the back of his hand, and for a moment, just a moment… everything was okay again. A momentary fix, but it was short-lived, every single time. Sometimes she wished he wouldn't leave, but she thought about the affliction it would cause him to be around her every waking day. She felt like a contagious disease, or to be less harsh, like an allergy that would inflict a sickness upon him. She couldn't do that to him; after all he had done for her… it was so selfish for her to even contemplate approaching him on the idea. She shook her head and furrowed her brow. No, she couldn't bring herself to do it even though it was such a savory idea, like attaining water on a hot day that she was miles from grasping. Like the temptation of the perspiration and condensation of an icy glass of water, this would be a perfect comparison to the idea of having Vincent around all the time to tend to her needs.

The more she thought about it, the more she thought about a therapy patient. Did everyone have to keep her on life support? Could she not breathe without being hooked up to a mechanical ventilator, the support of her friends? They had been her crutch for far too long, it was so discouraging for her, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth, a churning in her stomach. She knew that her loved ones could sate the inevitable pain of the loss of Cloud Strife, which had burned a hole in her heart. But only for a little while, the agony would continue to scorch on like a wildfire. Her sanity was disappearing more and more by the day, her time was just about up, and before she could continue the thought, Denzel and Marlene had reached the end of the staircase. She hadn't heard them approaching, and she realized they had been witnessing her heavy trance by the time she had snapped out of it. She had certainly lost her marbles, well, she looked the part. She hurried them off to the car, acting ignorant of the exposure of her melancholy.

The drive to Barret's was exceedingly inaudible, not even a peep from the young ones that sat in her back seat. She was feeling the fault and the weight of her issues pile on her back like a sack of bricks. She couldn't tolerate it, her patience had subsided over the one year time-span, and she knew that her composure was coming to a head. "This is silly, guys. You know I will be alright. I'm always in one piece when Barret brings you two back. Get those worried looks off of your faces… you're giving me the chills."

Denzel didn't appreciate her softening her condition, they had endured quite a deal over the summer… and her close call had kept them from making any visits to Barret. Denzel didn't trust her anymore, and he knew that she was unstable and couldn't be trusted alone. Somehow, someway, she had convinced them that time away to collect her thoughts would do her some good. With lots of resistance and a few tear drops later, they had come to a conclusion that they would only leave for a weekend. _"That was enough time…" _Tifa thought consciously. "We just don't want you to be stuffed in your closet the next we come back. Marlene is afraid you won't answer her calls next time, hopefully there isn't a next time though." Denzel's voice quieted below a whisper at the last part, he didn't _quite_ want her to hear it, and he knew she would be stung by that. She had already showered them with promises not to let it get that bad again.

There was no words left to reassure them, nothing could convince them that she was saving herself, which was clearly not the case. She would be sick of her, too, if she were them. Who would enjoy living with a ticking time bomb? All the more reason for her to comply with the decision she had been wrestling with. She pressed her lips into a hard line, catching the last words that Denzel had tried to blanket, exhaling with a shiver. Even if it was bad to remove her from their lives, wouldn't it be easier to excuse the problem at hand, which was blatantly clear that it was herself? It may be rough around the edges, but who was to say that it wouldn't eventually get easy for them all? Because it was obvious it wouldn't get easy in their current state. She shook the thought from her mind; she needed her attentiveness for the road ahead, the rain was furious today, and could be dangerous if you weren't concentrating on the curves of the highway road.

An hour had already drained, and they were nearing Barret's place. He wasn't very pleased with her tardiness, and realized that the children had been on edge, the tension evident in their expressions. He questioned her; she felt the lectures rising in him as his tone increased along with his alarm. She tried to reassure him, but to no avail it wasn't enough to hold him off. She had to force him to let her leave that night, but he didn't show the difficulty letting her leave around Denzel and Marlene. She couldn't combat his inquiries, because he was right. She wasn't living anymore, barely surviving the lacerations that Cloud had struck her with. He was apprehensive of her safety, being alone for the first time since her last incident. Was it fair? Or caring on their part to just send her off on her own like a troublesome puppy that they adored but didn't have the time to take care of? He felt as if, this could be a terrible mistake. More reassurance, more apologies, and more guilt.

He finally agreed to let her go, with enough pleading that made him comfortable to wave her goodbye. But the tension was still present. She'd have to be quick, because she promised to call the kids to say goodnight. She couldn't wait much longer; it was gnawing at her like a dog chewed at his flees that infested his skin. It was suffocating her, the responsibilities that she could no longer perform because of her lack of poise, or any sort of gratification for life. She had lost it all, gone off the deep end.

* * *

_I don't know if you noticed anything different,  
It's getting dark and it's getting cold and the nights are getting long.  
I don't know if you even noticed at all,  
That I'm long gone baby, I'm long gone._

_And the things that keep us apart keep me alive, and_  
_The things that keep me alive keep me alone._

Back at Seventh Heaven, she trudged through the bar door with her muddy boots. She didn't pay any mind to the mess she was making, because the mess was benign in comparison to the disaster of her life, where it all began for her. She walked across the bar, lifeless, ready to get the task over with. The answering machine blinked a bright red number, three new voicemails. She knew she had checked them before she had left to drop Denzel and Marlene off. She huffed, hesitant to descend the staircase. She went behind the bar; eyeing the voicemail machine, slow to react to it. She pulled a plastic box from below the bar counter on a shelf; it had several envelopes and belongings she had coveted over the years. She sifted through the papers and found what she was looking for. She placed it on the counter and pressed a button on the answering machine that released the voicemails, and Vincent's concerned voice sounded through the speaker.

She had been ignoring all of his phone calls lately, and it had troubled him. She made sure to avoid him when he came around the bar, she'd leave Yuffie to the bar and blame it on the lack of groceries in the apartment, or errands she had to run for her and the kids. He didn't buy it anymore, up until the day she wouldn't come out from the shower. He apologized over and over for their quarrel like it must've been his fault; he thought that that had been the trigger for her distancing herself from him. But it wasn't that, she thought internally. She felt like the match that started the fire, like the reason for the domino effect. She was inflicting pain on everyone around her, it had become a chain reaction, and she couldn't deal with it anymore. She wanted him to get used to not her being present in his life, which had lessened the guilt she had for his increasing affections for her. She flashed back to that dreadful memory, cringing in regret and tangible remorse.

"_Don't let me be the onion that continues to burn your eyes. You should remove yourself from this situation, Vincent. It's unhealthy. Just look at what it's done to Denzel and Marlene… I can't forgive myself for any of it anymore…" Vincent immediately grabbed Tifa by the arms, his firm grip tight around her arms; it was a little frightening for her because she could tell the stern look on his face was more serious than he'd ever been with her before. His crimson irises stared deliberately into her eyes, steadfast and unmoving. _

"_Let me tell you something, Tifa. And you listen clear. I'm not like that "callous" bastard, and I would never even have an increment of a thought of consideration to leave you. Not in this state, not ever. I see the life in you when I'm around you, you need this. And even that glimmer of hope, how little it is, I'm holding onto it. There's no way I could…" He couldn't finish his sentence as he realized his grasp on Tifa was getting too tight as the look on her face spilt discomfort and pain. He let go instantaneously._

"_I don't need you… I don't need someone to pretend to be Cloud, Vincent." Her words broke off there as she saw what they done to him. He took a step back to process what she had said, and inhaled sharply, his eyes moving and his fingers flexed, trying to grasp some sort of explanation to her cruel behavior, he hadn't anticipated this reaction. He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him with her voice before he could continue. "I need to be clear. This isn't making me better, it's making me worse. I don't need baby-sitters, or any pity-party, to say the least. You guys' hover over me for gods-sakes! I cannot be saved anymore Vincent… I'm incurable. I need to be treated with some level of respect. And that is always so much to ask from all of you. I don't need to be reminded every day that I'm damn well near a horror film. And if that's the case, than I need to be quarantined."_

"_Tifa…" His hand found its place on her shoulder, but it wasn't enough to console her, because she knew that tomorrow would be the same. She'd had shoulders to cry on, she'd had hugs, and back-pats, even the occasional sympathy talk, in hopes to relate. But they all didn't know, or even comprehend the power the anguish had on her, her misfortune… The life it sapped from her-. "I'm here for you." And her train of thought halted, mid-sentence. She felt it rise up in perfect darkness, the tremor of panic rising in her spine. Her lungs lost air, and nothing escaped, her eyes hardened their stare to share her reaction from his proclamation, he wasn't going anymore, and it pained her that he was willing to take on the weighty responsibility of being her fall-guy. "…and I'm not afraid. You don't need to be quarantined. I choose to be in your presence; don't speak of yourself as if you're a monster. I'm determined to save you whether you are willing to be saved or not. I know you're confused and obliterated, but at least let me try to compensate. I just want to make you happy…" _

_Her eyes looked hastily around herself, as if to find something that can help her recover from his revelation. He was uneasy with the silence, letting his hand drop from her shoulder, embarrassed by her empty mouth. Fear is like fire, you can burn your house down with it. "Vincent…" She started, but failed to finish. Every time she looked back into his eyes, she saw the regard and affection behind them. As much as she wanted to utilize it, she knew that it would reveal the selfish side of her, because she was using him for the comfort, the __**convenience,**__ and it was malicious of her. She squinted her eyes shut, shaking her head. And his heart broke into a panic, his breath caught in his throat instantly regretful of his revelation. "I can't deal with this right now! Close my casket already Vincent and stop throwing me a life jacket. If this is your way of getting me into therapy, or even trying to go into another lecture, stop because this is a pathetic way of getting what you want from me!" She shouted it, and it shattered him like glass. He stared, and finally blinked; looking away in surprise that she resorted to insulting his revelation and turning it into a plot to get her help. Fear is like fire, you can light it and watch it burn._

"_Tifa…" There was so much he wanted to say, and accusations he wanted to divert and dismantle. She had got him good with that, speechless. That's what she wanted; she took her rage out on him because she knew it was the only ploy to get him to leave and to let her be. He was writhing internally from the rejection, trying to understand it and come to that conclusion. She didn't give him time to gather._

"_Get out! Now please!" She started pushing and shoving and smacking, all at once in a fit of anger. He was caught off guard and he tried to overcome her surge of wrath with the calming of his cool hands, but she kept on barreling into him, backing him into the door of the bar. He had a mixture of emotions, shock, pain, rejection. But he let her fists do what damage they could, whatever she had intended them to do. And for that one moment their eyes were locked once he was on the other side of the door, he was lifeless and unable to register what was going on in her head. But he did know one thing; he finally realized why her pain had been so vibrantly excruciating. Because in that moment, he felt it too._

She punched the numbers into the phone and placed the envelope on the stool as she walked with the phone propped in between her shoulder and cheek. This may have not been the best idea, not even the slightest. She knew the consequences, the jeopardies it could cause. And it may have even endangered the precision of her well thought out plan, but she didn't care at this very moment. Her fervent desire to hear from the man that had been her rock and soul for the past year weighed heavier than her need to keep her plan intact. Did that mean she wanted to be saved, for once? She couldn't say, but she was sure that she needed that voice to purify her very being right now, one last time…for time's sake.

"Tifa?" He picked up on the first ring, and she felt the pitter patter, her heart flinching like an eager reaction, like a reaction you would get upon finding out you were going to overcome a revolting disease. Vincent had sounded so calm, but how could he manage to be so self-restrained even after how vile she had been towards him? She didn't deserve his benevolence, she deserved a punch in the kidneys, or if he insisted on being less unforgiving, he could at least curse her to her very core, causing her shame and guilt. That much was warranted. She let her breath escape her lips; she hadn't exactly prepared a speech for this. She probably should've been timelier, meticulous even to talk with more sagacity. But calling on a whim, with no warning or heads up? He would certainly suspect something was out of place.

"Vincent. I was a jerk, a jackass, even… You've been a pearl, with your shoulder that befriends my dreadful tearful outbursts, your generous helpfulness when it comes to being a guardian to Denzel and Marlene, tending to the bar and delivery service when I need a hand. I didn't even have to request any of that from you, you've done it all on your accord. And I'm so very grateful and obliged to you, Vincent. Words can't go on to describe my gratitude… And I've been a monster to you, utterly and completely…" Her mind went in different directions, she could barely fathom how much Vincent had done for her, and it was surely overwhelming. She had only reminded herself of how ungracious she had treated him, and he deserved so much more than she could have to offer. "I've been selfish, and I've identified the problem here Vincent… it's no longer going to be an issue, and I'm so sorry." Her voice caught in her throat and the pain rippled through her like a flame clothing her entire body, a burning sensation that inclined her to clench her fists and eye lids, the remorse building and boiling in her brain once more. "I can't do this to you… what he's done to me, I have to discontinue the vicious cycle."

* * *

_Breathe in the future; breathe out the past.__  
__Savor this moment as long as it lasts. Let me tell you,__  
__Put it back together piece by piece.__  
__Put it back together,__  
__Make it good.__  
__If you stayed over I'd make it so sweet,__  
__I'd make you remember, baby, from your head to your feet.__  
__If you go now babe we'll never know, how it ends._

Tifa's words flowed from her lips like a jumble of words, Vincent could barely make out what she was saying, and he could sense the anxiety in her tone. He tried to follow her, but all he was getting from this was a plea, an avenue of escape. She could no longer justify her motive for ousting him from her life, it all sounded like the invisible pun on a remark, but he caught it with affluence and there was no absconding what was, and what is. Vincent wasn't pulling anymore punches, per se… He was going to tell it to her straight, and tell her he wouldn't be going anywhere. He had nowhere to go, but to be near her and take her through the path to rectify all of her misplaced fortunes. It was going to be challenging, he would have to strive, but there was nothing he couldn't do for Tifa at this point, which she was blatant about adhering to.

"Tifa there's nothing to terminate here, don't be senseless. You're human; you're breathing your imperfections. You think any of us expected you to take this with stride? We expected no less… You just haven't exactly… let us try to abide to your pain, and strive to figure out an antidote for you. Whatever that may be, I've been on board to be patient, and to take it step by step. You just need to let-" And there was no way he could finish that sentence, with each word that mounted on top of the other, the panic rose in her throat. But hadn't she expected this? She made the sacrifice, the leap into fire, said phone call.

He didn't need to finish his sentence, she knew very well what he was going to say, she needed to "let go," but how could she? She felt as if there was a cord tied around her middle, anchored to that one person and no matter how far she walked, she'd always feel its pull back to the way she came. Cloud Strife had a hold on her; there was no way of sugar coating it. She cursed at herself repeatedly in her brain, and if she could hang up and get away with it she would do it in a millisecond. But instead of ruining what chance she had to keep this under wraps, she swept it under the rug conserving her temptations and leaning on willpower.

She managed to chuckle a little after a few moments of silence, playing it off like a joke on herself. "When I look back on it, I have been senseless, haven't I?" It was a rhetorical question, but she didn't intend for it to be answered. She stopped his lips in their tracks with more words of her own, like the inevitable sunrise. "I need to let him go… I need to let myself go. It's my way of ignoring, the torment that it causes, mostly for others, but secondly for myself." His principal reflex was to relax and exhale with comprehension that she had come to logic, and he stretched on the couch he was sitting on to relish over the lack of indignation he had now that she was coming to an understanding, unlike several confrontations in the past. He was glad. "I apologize for the absurdity Vincent; I haven't exactly been useful to you at all. Let alone Denzel and Marlene… I made so many promises, and I've broken them as effortlessly as I've made them. The way they look at me, it's as if I'm turning around and taking the knife out of my back and returning the lacerations to them, to everyone. So undeserved. How could I even begin to ask for forgiveness? I've given up on that choice." She was itching to complete her awaiting tasks, but she felt like it was miles away from her in the distance, lingering in the shadows. And Vincent continued to hover, making it more difficult. But the time was delicate, and she was losing it. 7:55, bed time was 8:00 for the kids; Barret would be ringing her soon. She'd have to sound more believable, like she was on a peek of conquering the sickness that threatened to surmount her.

"Like I said, step by step. You start at keeping one promise, and the rest will come later. Don't overwhelm yourself." Sure, he was right, that could work, for someone on pills. For someone who was monitored and adored by so many family members that were willing to force feed and admonish as much that was needed to keep the person's heart beating. But Tifa hated feeling like she was the cancer patient who needed saving, needed fending for. If she wanted to lose her own battle, than that was her choice. It was okay for cancer victims to make that choice, because the pain was beyond agonizing for them to resist the combat any longer. How was her situation different? Cloud was Tifa's cancer, her debilitating factor, and inevitable death. This was the way it was, there was no pardoning it. She was ready.

"Thank you for the reassurance. I'm glad I called you, I needed this… it's like rehabilitating for me. You've really done too much for me, Vincent Valentine. Oh! The time is passing me by, I promised Barret I'd give the kids a goodnight call, I should abide by that calling." She bit her lip, not quite sure whether he'd buy this and overlook some obvious indications of hastening the conversation. "And Vincent…?" She got a 'Hmm?' in return and she closed her eyes when she said it, trying to squeeze every increment of sincerity from the pores within her. "I really am sorry, for every last bit of it. What I said, how foolish I was towards you, I hope you can find it in yourself to extract that from your mind, because it was all a lie. I said those things out of ancient pain, and you were in my line of fire. Trust mewhen I say that it will never, ever happen again."

He thought to himself, the apologies were needless, because she was instantly forgiven after the words had left her mouth. He didn't hold a grudge against her inexorable plague that Cloud had thrown upon her, she needed a parachute, and if he had to undergo a fistful punching rage and the aggravated outbursts and tantrums, than he'd take the blows with a smile. If it ultimately meant her survival from this war, she would need an armistice. He could work with that, of course. "Don't mention it. Already forgotten. . ."

Well, when he put it _that_ way, she felt better. She smiled weakly, not much else she could say to that, she saw the exit in the box she was trying to escape when she made the phone call. "Goodbye Vincent." And the pain returned to her brain, her fingertips and down to her toes. She felt it everywhere, like an electrical shock, and it terrified her. She realized that these were the last words, and she choked back a cry silently, regaining her equanimity.

"Have a good night, Tifa." He was content with the conversation, and he was okay to hang up the phone without a second thought or double take. Maybe he had finally made a break through; she seemed to have come alive again somehow. It had been several weeks since their little quarrel, and he was glad that the worst was over, he could exhale now without worrying about her of whom he was expectant of every single morning, it was routine. It'd be nice to switch that up for a first, and he was feeling on top of the situation, finally. He'd come around again; maybe even buy her that favorite passion tea she reveled over so much. He smiled at the prospect of that. Yes, tomorrow he would surprise her, and it would be splendid. She'd be doing her afternoon laundry obligations and she wouldn't even see it coming. He wanted to replay the conversation in his head, and he caroused in it again remembering the savory parts that made his hairs stand up. Wait. Goodbye?

She said Goodbye… That was strange; especially her tone of voice, the fashion in which she said it just took his attention. He raised an eyebrow at it, questioning it.

She usually said, _"Seeya Vincent,"_ "_Talk to you later, Vincent," "Have a nice night, Vincent."_ but never "Goodbye, Vincent." That couldn't be typical of Tifa, he tried to replay memories back in his head, figuring he was being exaggerative. It was a possibility that she would say it when leaving on a delivery run not in the area, an overnight run that would take her from all other duties until the very next day, but even still, it was unlike her. Maybe it was something very insignificant, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

He walked to the other side of his apartment, needing a sufficient distraction because he was sure he was losing his mind. "_Butter_ _your_ _bagels_, _Vincent_." He picked up his revolver, re-filling the ammunition that he was meaning to do earlier, but he hadn't finished much of what he presumed to accomplish lately. He'd lose his train of thought, enough to discomfort and incapacitate him from continuing the task any further. He couldn't get her out of his head, she pierced his thoughts, one by one, every one. No, Vincent was not overreacting; he was entitled to taking this out of context, because Tifa hated saying goodbye. He knew that for a fact. _"Don't say goodbye, it feels like that's the last time you're going to bid me farewell. How bout', talk to you soon? Yeah, that's more fitting."_ He had a distinct memory, and there was no uncertainty in his mind to tell him otherwise. This was an alarm, ringing like bells. When she said, _"I need to let him go. I need to let __**myself**__ go." _What was that supposed to entail? He had no time to speculate, he had to be hasty. She could have minutes left. So he ran rancid, his cape taking flight.

When he came to his suppositions, he was begging his brain to make excuses for why that could not be the case. Vincent had struggled so inflexibly for it to not reach this point, where he doubted her will to live. How imprudent would he feel if he showed up and she was soundly asleep? How relieved and dismissed? But what if that could possibly not be the case? And he was too late… He would never forgive himself, in fact, he would purchase a jackhammer and he would hunt the ghastly bastard down who had enabled the misery to take place to the point of her perished soul. _"If she even had a soul…"_ He thought, it was improbable at this point for her to even have a cell left of her that was unabridged.

When he reached Seventh Heaven, and the cool air swept over every hair on his entire body when he entered the unlocked back door, a cold shiver washed over him, and he wondered if he was just imagining the bleak feeling of an empty life-less apartment. He wanted to hope so badly, that this was all delusion and that he was psyching himself out. Every step he took was rapid, but ironically he felt like his feet were weighed down with weights the size of anchors, because his brain didn't wish him to descend the stairs and witness either great respite, or great devastation. He couldn't imagine her with the expression of death, like the life had been sucked from her, but _willfully_. Was he even the one to take this unspeakable responsibility? Could he even recover such a dreadful obligation, which he was unsure he would even restrain himself from taking some sort of blame for being too late, if that were the case here? No, this was foolish, and irrational! Tifa would be just fine, alive, well, and breathing, because he was strong enough to gather the vigor to actually believe that very unlikely reassurance.

Because he knew where the end was going, and he liked to turn off the light at the end of the tunnel so he could stay lost in confusion a little while longer. Just so he could _hope_ a little while longer. Fear is like fire, you can watch it burn.

* * *

_Feel the night end in perfect darkness._

_Perfect darkness is all I can see._

_Deep water, stay under, see it rolling over your head and just, _

_Roll with it, until its all good, yea._

_Deep water, a little deeper than you thought,_

_Feel it going over the edge and just, go with it, until it's all good, yea._

_Keep those brown eyes wide open for this moment we own for now._

But, she wasn't okay, because once he found two letters left on the kitchen counter. He knew something wasn't right. He opened the one with his name on it.

_**Vincent,**_

_**I want you to stop feeling like you couldn't make me happy. You did make me happy. I left you because I couldn't return the favor.**_

_**I didn't deserve any of it. I don't deserve to be happy when all I do is hurt you.**_

_**I'm sorry this so easy to write, hard to say, and incredibly painful to feel. Compared to feeling truly sorry, writing it and saying it looks and feels so inadequate.**_

_**Please forgive me for all that I have done to you.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Tifa**_

He dropped the note as quickly as he departed up the staircase and found himself in an empty room; he fought against endless possibilities when he found the light peeking through the bottom of her bathroom door. His thoughts conflicted, thoughts of possible reprieve from his speculations, thinking she could be bouncing in perfect distinct health with her familiar flush of humanity still bright within her wine-colored eyes and in the flush of her cheeks, but a resilient part of him was doubtful she would even have her eyes opened when he found her. Vincent was hasty, desperate even just to reach her, but everything seemed to move in slow motion. It reeled him, burned his bones to feel some sort of a magnetic pull against him reaching her quickly.

She was not okay.

He fought against the appeal of turning around and bolting out of the point of no return if he fought for her life that could be possibly already lost. Her body was engulfed in freezing bath water, but she was perfectly still, and soul-less. He could see that her body was slowly lifting to touch the surface, cyanosis.

"No!" he wanted to shout and plummet into the bath-water and will her consciousness back into her body, like an order could do the trick. All the moments happened so suddenly, clip by clip it happened in his solitary mindset. In his recollection and now memory, as soon as his body met doorway, his hands met the cold bath-water; and the frail body of Tifa Lockhart. "God damn it Tifa!" Was all he could manage to even say, he was battered with shock, and severe frustration that if he wasn't so set on saving her life that seemed like it was hanging in the balance, he would've beat her to life.

He settled her on his lap, as icy cold clothing drenched his lower half. "What the hell have you done?" He knew he had to quit the one-liners, as he realized she was more far gone than he could've ever imagined. How much time had passed since she'd been under? Would she still be Tifa, if he even manages to bring her back? He couldn't discharge the infinite possibilities of the conclusion of the current situation. He began compressions on her delicate chest, he could feel the very ribs beneath her blue skin crack underneath his hands, and he felt like he was finally finishing Cloud's job, the one he began that day he left one winter ago… leaving a crack in her soul. He gave her two hefty breaths through her lips that were currently a pale blue, no sign of blood flow in her entire body. It looked like she had stored snow throughout her figure. She was such a pale white.

He pumped her chest, and he pumped her chest, and pumped her chest some more.

He was in shockwave, this wasn't real, this wasn't something he was supposed to undergo, and this wasn't a way to remember the exquisite girl that had enamored him so. It felt like the ending, before it had even begun. The woman he was so fond of was no longer breathing. He was beset on saving, but he had been trying to do it for several months now, and had been failing robustly and consistently. Maybe this was the solid palpable apprehension that he was never going to win, that he was never going to obtain the old Tifa Lockhart that they had all besotted. Or the realization that he had been climbing a mountain that had no top, that just kept on ascending infinitely, with no finish line. He didn't want to compare her to a topless mountain; he needed to know that there were some grounds to never give up on Tifa. There was a tremor of a pulse, so he kept pumping, and kept hoping, and kept climbing, to will her back to life.

* * *

_Distance and time are no protection for bad luck,_

_So many roads, so many crowds._

_And I know I'm leaving early, and these things test us baby._

_Distance and time, so many moves to make._

_I try to stop the fire spreading from under my feet, to under our bed._

_Distance and time are no protection for your sweet brain._

_**-1 Year Later-**_

Darker clouds approached, and the perspiration they carried was cradled, ready for another batter of rainfall. It was breaching midnight and the floor gleamed and reflected the moonlight, it was so cold the puddles could've frozen over and caused a hazard. It was typical Midgar, and he knew it so well, familiar being an understatement. The man had reached the top of a hill, surveying the town he would descend that he hadn't initiated in a little over two years. He grasped the hilt of the sword that was barricaded deep into the terrain. The icy cold unforgiving wind tousled his thick now darkened locks, but he was unaffected, knowing the commission he would fulfill tonight would be every bit of the word problematic, but it was worth the trouble. He would have to pay his dues, for he was to blame for the damage he would have to mend. You break it, you buy it. That meant tending to its injury, right? Even after it had been a while, a _long_ while to be thorough. And even though the thought of the long channel ahead creased his brows and impelled an exasperated breath to part his lips, he knew that this would be the only way to reconcile his past, to make his demons slumber, and to cause his anxieties to perish. And so he descended the mountain, with the sword holstered on his right shoulder. Midgar wouldn't know what hit em'.

**_Compass points out in no directions, _**

**_From this moment we own for now._**

**A/N: **Another big thanks to all of those who have continued to read this fic, it is near and dear to my heart despite the lack of updates. I've identified with this story a lot, and have seen people suffer the loss of a loved one who has either abandoned them or who have lost them in death, and even from my own personal experiences. I think we could all relate in one way or another. As you may have realized, the revised version of Chapter 1 is not identical to the original rough version, which solely focused on the return of Cloud Strife, and Tifa's internal struggle to trust him because of his drastic changes. I wanted you guys' to get a broader view of why Tifa was so reluctant to jump into his arms, and why it had been so difficult for Vincent to witness Tifa's shortcomings and to accept that Cloud was making a comeback. I apologize for how gigantically long this chapter was, but notwithstanding my exasperated efforts to shorten it, this was as good as it was going to get. Please express your thoughts, views, and questions about this chapter. Don't be reluctant, let me have it! Thanks for reading and for your assertive attention, till' next time.

**P.S:** If you'd like to know who authored the lyrics throughout this chapter, they were by the wonderful and inspiring artist Fink. Songs I used were: "Honesty," "Perfect Darkness," "Make it Good," "So Many Roads," and last but not least, "This is the Thing". And also, desperately searching for a beta reader for this story, contact me if you'd like to behold the responsibility..! ;)


	2. A Weakening Wall Will One Day Fall

_**Author's Note:**_

_First and foremost, I want to apologize for reposting this Chapter so many times. I did a no-no, I recently lost the revising I had made to the chapter, but I didn't know the extremity of how much I lost, and that I had to go back into certain parts of the story and change what I thought I had already revised. I didn't realize the mistake until after I was going through it on the website, where I did a quick deletion, and trust me I did it with a twinge of regret knowing the impatience I must be forcing upon the readers. But believe that it was the best thing; I want you guys to have the best version of this chapter. The ending was changed twice, with advice from my co-writer, it's better than the rough draft and I'm really satisfied with it. Heartfelt sorry for the prolonged wait, (_;;). I hope you find it in your heart of hearts to forgive my imperfections. _

_I want to acknowledge my reviewers,_

To Ade: I can see how the story seems like it's leaning more towards a Vincent/Tifa fic, but that would only seem to be the case because in this story, Vincent vouches to be a support system towards Tifa because he sympathizes with her due to his own personal experience that relates to her in a way. The story will develop into Cloud/Tifa, and you'll just have to see about the rest. All I can say about Vincent being ooc is that this chapter will elaborate more about his internal struggle with not being able to portray emotions. To be honest, I really don't like people's perception of Vincent, and viewing him as a callous emotionless bastard. I remember him having a tender side in Final Fantasy VII Advent Children in the scene in the Forgotten city where he cuddled against Marlene and helped her escape, he has feelings too. He may be cold and brooding, but that doesn't mean he is uncaring. That's all I can really explain without revealing too much.

_I want to give a shout out and a sincere thank you to my Beta Reader __**Asuragetsfalconpunched**__, for being a phenomenal critique and helping me accomplish accurate and exciting grammar that really makes Darker Cloud the story that it is. _

_Please proceed with caution reading this chapter, the time hops could get confusing if you don't read the titles carefully. The ending could be frustrating because it's a cliffy, so beware! Thanks for all of the alerts and favorites…! You guys really make rewriting this story worthwhile. Keep the reviews and questions coming, they really benefit the story to progress, every one counts. Enough of my rambling, enjoy!_

* * *

_Present Time_

The very bottom was the very first thing he expected. But ironically, the very last thing he expected was the very first thing he got, but it was unfortunate that it took a tragic event to transform the situation. He expected the worst case scenario to be that Tifa ended up in a crazy house, being fed through a tube because of severe refusal to eat. But reality trumped any possible scenario Vincent could come up with, it was simply inferior. His expectations would seem endearing in comparison to the real outcome. It was sardonic how the outcome of the disastrous journey pushed Vincent right where he always wanted to be, and what Tifa had selfishly desired in private. Everyone around them had been hoping for the same thing, because even if they weren't outwardly honest about it, they all saw how Tifa breathed normally around Vincent, and didn't try so hard to fake a smile, or desperately try not to be perceived like she lacked interest in anything she used to find appealing. He brought out a partial layer of her former shell, and they were damned if they didn't wish for Vincent to be around more often to keep her sated. They prayed for him to move in, and they urgently searched for ways for that to happen, but they never dreamt in a million years that it would call for a suicide attempt to get that wish to finally come true.

And so he did. And it was final, and there was no revoking this final decision. He was going to be there for Tifa, 24/7. Call it what you want, he didn't care if he was her maid, or a servant, a caregiver that was there on her heels for her every beck and call, he was willing to do what it took to keep her lungs inflated. There was no other place, no other person, no other relationship he rather be in, than to be right there by Tifa's side while be brought her back to a full recovery. As months past, the trust rekindled, and he brought life back into her eyes that had once dwindled that dreadful Saturday night.

It was a repulsive memory, one that had a following of cringing consequences, ones Tifa would rather forget than recall. Denzel and Marlene were temporarily taken by Barret, Elmyra included with her assistance. Though, Tifa didn't exactly believe the children would have it in them to live with an irrational suicidal prone depressed soul. It would be like throwing them inside a cage infested with lions, they were terrified of her, and terrified of what they may witness. The knowledge of what had taken place would've overthrown them, with the thought of almost losing a parent again. To their understanding, Tifa had grown very sick, and wasn't strong enough to take care of them for a while. It was worse than the disappearance of Cloud, because they were unsure if they'd ever get their mother back. It was enough that they had lost Cloud, with no awareness of what they had done to make Cloud irate to the point of leaving them without a trace. She felt unforgivable, on all levels of unforgiving. Her dignity had vanished, but Vincent had been so painfully sweet to her, subtle in his approach to purify her. It was elusive, almost. Tantalizing. She felt like an idiot, because, this man was more devoted to ridding her of the repellent quandary than she was herself.

She couldn't be positive that was the case, but the way he was with her, was way too gentle. She never judged him by the demon that lurked inside those eyes somewhere, but she may have projected a personality trait to him that made him incapable of being so sympathetic without some sort of a pull to do otherwise. She imagined it like perfection, no matter how hard you try to reach it; you'll always be like that dent in a pan that continues to make imperfect baked foods. It was an odd imagination, but she was odd, and _this_ was odd, how it all ended up.

Just like Vincent could've never thought of this situation ever occurring, he would've never imagined ending up in Cloud's old room, in Cloud's old bed, using Cloud's old sheets and blankets, not forgetting the pillow that was the cherry on top. It was illusory, it even made him grow mad once, at a tug of war with Chaos to the conclusion of destroying the bed, and the blankets, including the cherry on top, said pillow. It was a secret he kept to himself, and described it as "a need for change" when Tifa realized the rearrangement in his abode. But he could pretend to forget the man that once resided in the room he now occupied, he could recede the anger at the clothes that still hung in his closet that had kept Tifa hoping he would return for them. He wanted to take it upon himself to dispose of them, but he didn't know what type of reaction he might get, and how unreasonable he would feel if he upset her again.

Vincent was content with where things were at, there was not a threat that could contest him to change anything in his life, because it was a giant bowl of saccharine bliss to experience Tifa's first real smile, her first non-artificial laugh, and nothing could take away the warmth he felt when he witnessed the brightness in her wine-colored eyes. It was truly his place to be here, to do this for her and to be engaged in his undertaking in saving Tifa from the anguish that threatened her survival.

He wanted to lighten the load on her shoulders, so he took on the bar, and all of the rowdy and discourteous customer's it came with. He also took on the delivery service that Tifa had been frantically trying to save from going under, it had been problematic for her to balance the business on top of her other callings, especially parenting the children in her singleness. It was prodigious to expect to be successful in all of those pursuits, and doing all those things by herself was indefinitely madness. Never again could he be surprised at her attempt of suicide, not when he completed her tasks, and relished over how she could possibly do all of this and deal with her anxieties and take it all with pretending she was living happily, always hiding her desire to disappear from the pressures.

But she was turning over a new leaf, and his optimism was apparent in his politeness, you could scoop it with a spoon. Every customer was taken off guard by his positivity, given his outward appearance. The warm personality seemed a bit suspicious, so they eagerly took their packages and left him to his next stop. It had been a long day and translucent, he didn't care much about every delivery made, because his mind was back at the house with Tifa where he had left it, and he would be spacing out until he was back in good company with it. It was a short hiatus, but it felt like a lengthy lifetime of eons.

All the warmth inside of him suddenly turned into an inferno, ripping wretchedly through his torso. He had finally reached the parking lot of Seventh Heaven, but he felt so delusional when he tried to peer closer towards the object, he thought it to be ludicrous for someone to pull this sort of prank. His mind was playing tricks on him, he thought once every step closer made it that more real. He started to wish he was going crazy because this either meant there was an imposter in his home, or he really had returned. His crimson gaze peered through the window this time, and he caught a glimpse of black hair. Thinking it to be Tifa, he started walking swiftly in the direction of the door to Seventh Heaven, but stopped dead in his tracks when he realized the familiar uniform and gear the person wore when they came into plain sight. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed in a hard line to complete the facial glare, all thorough with confusion. His mind was sprinting in different directions, the absurdity at his change in appearance, and his deep astonishment at the blank stare that he was sharing with Tifa was twisting his stomach in knots. Vincent's hands fell to the arm of the door, but it battled against him with his poor remembrance of how to open it, forgetting that you pulled instead of pushed to gain entrance.

And he transformed into a mannequin, stone frozen when those mako eyes locked with his, his glare only intensifying with the rage that surfaced.

* * *

_Two Years Earlier_

**In Vincent's POV**

_Sometimes I wonder why I'm so full of these endless runs, about the way I feel inside, I wish…_

If you wanted my opinion, you'd get a bitter truth of this world. You'd understand that everyone someway had a prevailing selfish soul, and that they chose to be overpowered by it when they were indolent enough to fight against the urge. I lost my sentiment for humankind when Chaos was incased inside me, and it only fulminated steadily. I had been betrayed by those who were formerly precious to me; I had lost the transparency within my soul. I would have to work against the grain, working in reverse to get back what was stolen from me. But taking homage in Tifa's survival was as easy as breathing, because I believed in the cause. I can't relate her to a foundation, but I thought of her as a prevailing project after a fatal tragedy, I wanted to be the remedy, a sort of cure to fix her. Explaining my inabilities to act on my emotions is excruciating. It's more challenging than fitting your body in the eye of a needle. My mind had been immobilized after Chaos froze all of my immediate emotional tendencies, but this didn't make me incapable of having affection for anyone, rather, it meant that the feeling is quite benign to the point that it is more difficult to locate and act on it than it would be to express my feelings openly. I don't feel anymore, I search. I search for a deeper meaning behind situations that atone for emotions. I have to work in reverse, trying to recapture remnants of my former self. But it's not in reaching distance, because I do not register with the former Vincent Valentine now that Chaos is a part of me. Reaching for my emotions, but they slip through the cracks of my fingers like thin air. It's unmanageable to get a hold on them, but their clear enough to be a spectacle on the surface, like being forced to search for it while blindfolded.

Tifa was complicated, she called for heavy investigating. I was engrossed in her circumstances because it reminded me that I could care about others predicaments instead of victimizing myself as the vilest case known to mankind. I was confounded with redressing her situation, and to attempt to recompense. She was alone; I had undergone my own isolation. But in contrast, she had several responsibilities that prevented her from moving forward, I couldn't ignore her obvious quicksand. I thought in ways on a small scale, I had it better, thankfully I had been able to resort to solitary confinement after the hellfire, but she had to continue living for the people around her, keeping them comfortable and reassured despite the dilemma. If I could just break down her brick wall one by one, I might be able to dig further into the dark depths of my savaged emotions. When I heard about Cloud, I felt an emotion I hadn't felt in years. Sympathy. Or at least I recall it feeling like that… I wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that at least her hell wasn't as intolerant as mine had been, and that she could be thankful that she wasn't a monster ripped of her affections and that she could still survive intact. My only way of expressing that was by dedicating myself to helping her get over it, by Cloud's actions, he wasn't returning any time presently. If she spent every exhaling moment counting on their reunion, she would end up like me. An empty infinite cold soul, without warmth and without condition. I needed that for her; I needed that to live for, because it was my closest shot at remembering I was still a man that had a heart enclosed in those ribs, even if it minor indication, and even if it went without evident emotion.

I felt a similar betrayal that Tifa experienced. When she screamed and broke into tantrums savagely, I felt a dash of self-loathing. I knew her anguish like the interior of a coffin, and I was willing to detriment my seclusion to bring her back to who she was, reimbursing her for giving me back what I once was in increments. How she could do it without any apprehension of what she was doing to me, I have no riposte for. But I was compelled, and I knew that I could only finish my objective with results if I tried earnestly at it, without slackening.

The abandonment Tifa experienced was still newborn, and the bags underneath her eyes continued to spill of redness that cried out mental exhaustion. I was unable to identify with Cloud, how he could be capable of such desolation. He used to be spotless, unblemished. There was not an insult that could touch him in the months that led up to his swift disappearance, I would've valued to find one thing that could classify him as a monster, because in the past looking at the comparison felt like comparing a beast to an innocent man. I wasn't suitable for Tifa, especially not up against Cloud Strife. He would always be one up, for I had a demon in my depths persistently while he reeked of the perfect hero.

It was foolish to even think that he could have a mishap, and tarnish what he had with Tifa. His life was faultless, one that a man like me could only admire in the distance. The day he messed that all up I could not administer how he managed to step foot out that door without looking back for the familiar call of the woman he so desperately loved. I was beginning to reconsider his feelings towards her, because if it was anything close to the feelings I could've had if my emotions hadn't been stripped, he would've clung to that door like his life depended on it, but maybe he had lost his hinges. He had to of been short of something, maybe the madness he could not withstand, the desperation and obsession over his lost adored souls, Aerith and Zack. The antipathy he felt towards himself for being diminutive of their hero. That pull had to be strong enough to the point of being unbreakable to walk out on the girl that survived him.

Tifa was frighteningly lackluster, she spoke to no one. Her words were replaced with acknowledgement; her eyes would increase in volume, as if she were trying to respond with enthusiasm that would be then incredulous with her distress. You could see the struggle in her eyes, but she had lost the resolve to fight it. She basically lived in his closet, searching for a reason. The aftermath was tumultuous; no one had the stomach to perceive the repetition of her antics after a few viewings. I couldn't stand the questionnaire she would give the clothing that hung on the racks, as if they were Cloud himself. She was so speculative like she was going to gain something by interrogating his nonliving belongings.

Her frustration was brimming, and she no longer trusted herself with her own children, so she began taking frequent outings out in the town of Midgar. Today I'm catching her take her leave after an outburst and tirade targeting Cloud's clothing, she felt insane and impractical. "I'm insane and impractical. I have to leave before I…" She left in a hurry like she was shielding the kids from a fatal accident, and I felt sympathy for her because her emotions were so similar to mine. The pull towards her increased tenfold, and I couldn't bring myself to reject my footsteps magnetic pull in her stride. I was gravitating towards her because I was bent on seeing what it was that she required so badly that she couldn't find within her own home.

She jerked to a holt, and it startled me when the look on her face shifted to perplexed and haunted, I will never forget the daunting tinge of pity that rushed over me when I made the connection that she had made the misconception, her brain had incorrectly registered that a man walking a short distance away was the absent man in her life. Her legs took off in a sprint, and I rushed after her to disrupt her blunder. I felt prompt penitence that I was going to thwart her already aggrieved heart condition; she was so fragile in her attempts to grasp something to keep her brain functioning.

My hands caught her shaking arms, and found a resting place on her shoulders as I tried to keep a pace beside her and to stop her in her tracks, it was terribly difficult with her strength against mine, trying to be careful not to hurt her when she was trying so scarcely to work against me to reach the stranger. I was so entranced to stop her; I barely noticed the interrogative shouts she meant to alert the man walking away from her. She had turned the interrogation from the old clothing hanging in the closet towards this man who had never met her before. " Cloud, answer me damn it..! You can atleast give me a reason why. Stop walking away and tell me why you're back here if you aren't going to come back to us.! Cloud! Vincent let go of me please, I need to get close enough…"

I was determined to bring her to her senses before she realized her mistake, but the man reverted that from happening when he reacted to her pleas, with an inquisitive look on his face. She stopped moving against me and she squeezed my arms, I could feel the embarrassment in the heat of her palms, and in the shock in her eyes. "I-I'm…sorry." We were the only ones that could hear her soft apology, because her voice was quiet enough to audibly hear if you bent close enough to her mouth to listen. And in that moment, I thanked the grain that this man hadn't been Cloud Strife, because one shot… one bullet was all I needed to put him beneath the pavement. When I looked into this woman's eyes, the weight of my existence was hinging on the fresh task at hand. My resolution had been made; there was no clemency for him if he returned.

Dead man walking.

* * *

**1 Year Later**

My entire body vibrated and my nerves pounded like the feeling after an injury, it was loud and vibrant in my head, feeling like my hands were over the fire with no remorse. I was still stuck in the trance of petrifying doubt that she would not endure, that she had breathed the last breath of life. She was hanging by a strand, and her life solely depended on my ability to bring her back, as it always had been. I had wished to be her remedy, this is what it cost. I had countless thoughts of how I would hunt him down, how long it would take me to kill him. Another mindless man sapping the life from an umblemished woman. The anger was fresh in me and boiling bright, I let the demon inside me transition my personality, and I became that revolting person. The animosity was flooding every corner of my entirety and I was losing my grip, I almost allowed myself to be shoved so far back into my mind by him that his thoughts overwhelmed my reality and changed who I was, and tampered with my undertaking. I used to be quite resilient against his influence.

For a split second, only, and I came back to myself shoving Chaos so far back into my head that he was only a faint whisper so quiet that refocusing frantically on reviving Tifa had conquered my ability to hear him. I was infatuated with bringing her back, seeing her open her eyes had been the enticing motivation; I nearly shoved them open for any signs of survival myself. And then, a glimmer of hope, she jerked and convulsed vomiting a deluge of bath water, her nails digging into my arms like thorns that nearly felt like a soft prickle due to my indifference, my only worry being her reclamation. She could've clawed at my eyes and I wouldn't have been fazed. I hadn't realized my palm was clutching tightly to her chest, feeling for any thump of a heart-beat. It was beating frazzled against my touch, and the feeling was beautiful. To lose this feeling from her body had been such a detriment, _you don't know what you got till' it's gone_. The relief trampled me like a collapse of a brick wall, and I held her ever so tightly like she suddenly turned into a bar of soap, cautioning to leave my grasp.

My breath was gone from me; I was staggered and was stagnant. I wanted to strangle her, and holler and scream at her for doing this to herself, in her pursuit at leaving the world so carefully and peacefully, for leaving everyone in that way. Her plan was so structured, it left me speechless, and there were no words. The plan seemed precise enough it had to weeks in advance of preparation, it troubled me thoroughly. I couldn't find my lungs, or my mouth to express the sting of uncertainty she gave me, the disappointment at my failure to put her agony on layaway, but still, she took the swig of poison. And here we were, in a puddle of cold water, dripping of relief and sorrow and yesterday's hello's and goodbye's. She looked into my eyes, so tired and helpless, but they told a story and she prepared to muster up the effort to repeat it.

"Don't say it…" I put my fingers in the space between her fingers and I squeezed her hand for reassurance, for that was all I could give her in that moment. Because there were no words anymore that could solve this, she lost her own battle that she had been fighting unsuccessfully, and I was no remedy. I was just a temporary fixture, a momentary glimpse at something that paled in comparison to what she knew she could never let go of. "Just keep breathing." Without her there, I don't think I could close my eyes. It was anxiety, and I couldn't get that gut wrenching feeling to dissipate. How did I end up like this? I can't outrun these natures of ghosts. I let my hands pet the weakened wall that would one day fall, working on her armored exterior that was weakening against my strain to get her to a safer place in her mind.

"So stay the night." She took me out of my recollections, it was just hours ago when it had all happened and the thoughts wouldn't dwindle. I had already planned on staying; there was no humanly possible way I could gather the strength to leave her in this state, if ever. I wanted to put her in a body suit to restrain her where she couldn't harm herself in any form or fashion; I wanted her to be safe, mentally, physically, and entirely.

"Is it possible to leave you like this Tifa? I'll stay a while longer than one day, if that's comfortable. I'll leave when you throw me out." I suppose the joke lightened the mood a little, but nothing could scare off the unsettled churning in my bones, the burning in my eyes that I swore could be moisture if Chaos hadn't stripped me of all emotion. I knew she wouldn't have a retort for that, because it was inflexible for her to even be around me after what had just taken place, the shame was observable in her rigid posture. "Tifa, what would you do if he came back…?"

Her back was to me, and her shoulders relaxed a little after a moment of stillness. Reluctantly, she turned around to face me where I sat on the edge of the couch. Her expression made me flinch softly; her face broke into a million pieces, unreadable but tangible. I wanted to reach out to apologize for my poor judgment, and retract my mistake. But she wanted to respond, because she took a step in my direction looking to the floor for words to answer. "I would be caught off guard, to say the very least, and angry. But Vincent, I would be so relieved. I can't dismiss all of the questions I have no answers for. I just want to know why… and to know what happened. I guess you can say it's like an unsolved murder case so to speak, you aren't satisfied until you've put the pieces together and find out what really took place and who committed the crime. I don't know who committed the crime in this case, I can't put a face to the suspect because there's no evidence, and there are no answers. I feel that maybe if he came back, I could discover some sort of reason, and it could release all of the anxiety that's built inside me over time."

She paused for a breath, her proclamation was thought provoking. That meant that she'd give him a chance at explaining himself. That may seem innocuous on the outside, but still, a chance was a chance and I wasn't prepared to be that sensible with a man that made a senseless decision. I'm no king, I wear no crown, but I didn't need permission to kill the bastard. "It would take time, but I think I'd be able to forgive him. This resentment is damaging." She was down on her knees, searching for empathy to confirm that it was okay to come closer; she didn't want to feel arbitrated. This was sick, foul and I couldn't swallow it. I didn't feel disposed to decorate her reasoning with assenting to it, she deserved better than that. She deserved the truth. And the truth wasn't indulging, she wouldn't take it with a fork and a knife but I had no trouble force feeding her through a tube if it boiled down to that. I wanted to guard her from those thoughts of forgiveness, because he had nearly murdered her tonight just because of discarding her. I don't care if it was much needed solitude; nothing could clean his hands of the crime.

So my eyes burned in their sockets, and my apathy towards her lack of acknowledgement concerning the observable reason that burned so bright a blind person couldn't miss it. "Tifa, please don't ignore your common sense. The obvious suspect held accountable for the near fatality that occurred in that bathroom just moments ago is Cloud. You say you're unreasonable for trivial things, but this, this is insanity." It sliced her like butter, and the injury to her soul was an evident blow, her body flinching with reflex when my words submerged without tact. She had been close to my knees on her place on the floor, losing encouragement to reach for sympathy, her body leaning away from me. I couldn't control it, my tongue was speaking sightlessly.

"Sometimes the cure to our case isn't always innocuous." She recovered from the painful jab with ease, as if she brushed it off like it wasn't solid. So I tried, and I tried to ignore it. There were more imperative things in this world than to dispute over a man that shouldn't matter anymore, because in reality he didn't. He was a transparent memory, absent and less than a human soul. For all we were aware of, he could have already perished. She had chained herself to Cloud, to his memory, immobile. It was pulling nails trying to detach her. It felt like a permanent task, but I had to continue climbing, continuing hoping that there was an end to this path.

"Don't ever do this to yourself again. I couldn't stand it." So I ignored her last statement, and I grabbed both of her wrists pulling her onto my lap, yearning for her warm living, breathing body and ignoring her recent body language to avert from my presence. I enjoyed the sense of life flowing through swollen veins, and felt her body close to mine, feeling that familiar thump of her heartbeat that reminded me the life had returned to her fragile physique. Chills spiraled down my spine in remembrance of when the heartbeat had grown extinct from her chest. My hand slipped from her wrist and rested against her slender back, cradling her adoringly, savoring her life, her soft intakes and exhaling breaths against my chest, the indication of survival. I was no remedy, I was a damn ventilator. She could crash at any moment, but not if I had a say. "You don't know what you do to me…" The slightest whisper didn't register in her mind. I rocked her gently in my arms and watched her silent tears that looked like diamond prisms spill over her eyelids and drop down her cheeks, chilling everything it touches. Every inch of me was alive, and I felt a peace unfurling in my chest. I didn't move, scared of smashing it…

Scared of shattering the spell.

**End Vincent's POV**

* * *

_Two Days Prior to Present Time_

The sunlight bled through the curtains of Seventh Heaven, and the bar was closed leaving customers to their daily compulsions. Tifa was pleased with this, but it was short-lived, having already made prior engagements for the day that lay ahead. Three years had passed since the Geostigma had been cured, and the people of Midgar had celebrated the date they had found the magical cure for their beloved ones. The day was celebrated with a Festival that funded the cause, and gave money back to the families who had grieved loss and financial distress due to the ailment. Tifa always made an exertion to attend and to support Denzel who had been a former sufferer of the disease. She had had to live through attending the festival alone, as a single parent for two years, but today would be dissimilar. Vincent was now somehow apart of this broken family, as a support system and was a great deal of encouragement, his presence alone. It was better than nothing, it was better than the empty chair, and it was a hell of a lot better than the dreadful pit she could not crawl out of.

He was no Cloud Strife, but that's what made him perfectly acceptable, he wasn't the man that turned his back on something that was too good to be true. She may have been too big for his britches, but she always endeavored to be less of an inconvenience. Vincent didn't need a constant reminder of her revulsion for being a burden, though he wouldn't concede that could be the case, the fact that he was a new tenant under her roof was proof in the pudding. Although Cloud was unlikely to make an astounding comeback, Tifa tried to live like he had never been gone, like he didn't exist in that room two years ago. Better yet, she put up an act like maybe _he had _come back, as if her issue had been miraculously modified. Vincent wasn't appeased.

He never enjoyed the acts, the roleplaying.

He wanted her to start breathing like a normal person, to start operating like it didn't kill her, but that was a farfetched ideal perception of want. Her acts would have to do, it had peeked something inside her that gave her moments of life, her vibrant eyes and a soft smile when the situation would call for it. The dullness had subsided to a soft murmur, and Vincent could tell that the children were her survival, other than his superman achievement at disturbing her suicide scandal.

She hated the bath tub; it was an enemy of sorts. She couldn't retract the death glare from increasing on her facial, leaving Marlene to fend for her task at disrobing for the procedure as Tifa was a magnet to the doorframe. "Vincent." She called out to him, hesitant but completely positive in her movement away from the bathroom and into the hallway as the little girl continued to struggle with her shirt trapping her hands above her head completely vulnerable to its fabric. Vincent gave her a questioning look, but instantly detected the dilemma when he heard the little girl whining for assistance when Tifa freed her arms from the death trap, tossing the little shirt to Vincent when he crossed the doorframe. "Bathe her for me please. I have to…" The words couldn't form within her head, Tifa was trying to explain a believable excuse as to why she couldn't bathe little Marlene.

But she didn't have to explain. Vincent knew why, for it was hard for him as well to be in that bathroom after what had transpired two years ago.

Vincent raised his eyebrow at her pause for continuation, almost answering the question for her with his discerning eyes. "Finish lunches. I have to finish the lunch for today." And Vincent continued his questioning stare, unable to appeal to her save. "As a matter of fact, I think I left them out. They must be growing stale. Make sure you get all of the shampoo out of her hair this time!" She shouted the last order at him from down the hall, hasty for a quick escape from her obvious fright. Vincent shook his head and scooped the little girl up and placed her in the bath ignoring the memories that forced their way to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of his near miss.

The festival was packed and there was barely any squeeze room, Tifa didn't exactly love crowds especially on a day she wasn't feeling very _festive_. Vincent saw the cage Tifa seemed to be boxed in, he relieved her of the responsibility of keeping the children close who were at her hip until he took them off her hands. He started in the direction towards the cotton candy stand which Marlene had been begging for since they set foot on the premises, looking back to her. "We'll give you a moment. Go and have a break. You need it." She mouthed a "thank you" and took a bee-line for the bench that looked like her sanctuary in its wood built goodness. It should've been the most uncomfortable thing in the world her butt had ever graced, but she melted into it, and let her head rest back against the back of the bench. She felt like she was in serenity, for months she had been ripping and running trying her best to retrieve her former good mommy self that she last lost with the threat to her life, she had paid more than the usual attention to her kids that deserved a decent mother. She cooked them edible meals for once, and tucked them into bed without forgetting to put the covers over them and tell them stories of the long forgotten past she hated to relive, the absence still so vibrant that walked hand in hand with her memories of her childhood friend.

This break had to of been the first break she had since her tirade of desperate attempts to get back into their good graces.

But her serenity abruptly disintegrated when the tobacco reached her nostrils, she scrunched her nose and moved her head to the left like the stench wouldn't follow her. She had not even blinked an eye before she caught sight of familiar eyes, who could forget? It was only a glimpse, a faint sight that hinged on familiarity and aided her to squint her eyes as her head tried to follow the figure through the crowd, her body scooting on the bench out of impulse that she didn't realize a person was sitting in that direction whom gave her an angry proclamation at her mistake. She snapped out of her trance and whispered a slurred "Sorry" while her eyes darted to the location of those mako eyes again, but finding no sign of them.

She searched frantically for them again, angered at what might've been veracity or a delusion; she wouldn't be sure until she found sight of them again. She was on her last straw, and she was ready to give up on what might've been, settling with delusion as the cause. Yeah, she was definitely a freak now. Vincent would get a kick out of this."_I guess this really is insanity…_" She took her eyes from the crowd and turned around to retreat to her spot on the bench, but the still irate civilian gave her a challenging glare, purposefully setting her bag in Tifa's former spot. Tifa threw her head back and came back to herself, but caught the sight of analogous eyes again, but this time, they were stagnant, blending with the crowd but never wavering. She moved towards their direction, but they quickly averted, and she was losing sight of them again. She broke into a fast paced walk, hoping she wouldn't repeat her accident from a year ago. She slowed her pace when she had feelings of doubt, wondering if she had lost them, whoever it was. She was guessing it was a ShinRa solider, who else would bear the mako eyes they were so famous for? It couldn't be… She was unable to finish that thought, because she saw a figure dressed in heavy gear walking away through the crowd with his back to her. His hair was a deep raven color, and she wasn't sure this was mako eyes, but she had a feeling…

"Tifa!" His shoulder started to turn at the call of her name, and she was dead in her tracks, focusing, and waiting in dreadful eagerness to see the face of this stranger. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, the suspense like a thousand needles to her entire body. But people were crowding the gap between them, the distance far enough to make her squint to get a clearer glance. But his face was coveted by the ongoing traffic of pedestrians, and she cursed on a whisper, turning to face to chipper female tone that had been calling her name. She couldn't smile back at a radiant Yuffie who was bouncing through the crowd in her direction, her eyes were someone else' as her eyes made a momentous discovery. Those eyes, staring back, in an instant so quick but so palpable, she stopped breathing in the intake at those short moments. As quick as she saw them, they were gone.

* * *

_Present Time_

Tifa didn't particularly enjoy the task she was due to execute. She was aware that her lack of willingness to perform it would cost her in the long run, as it had already affected her life. She bit her lip and diverted her gaze in loch distaste. Would she prolong the process and risk letting mold and mildew build up at the rims of the bath tub, or would she delve into cleaning the unclean tub that was a familiar scar for her..? It looked much more like a coffin to her than a cleaning device, and she wasn't too assured delving into it would preserve her alive. So she was hesitant, but intent on trying to force herself. Staring it down wasn't doing the trick, so instead; she decided to be fictitious and pretend to concoct for its onslaught.

She brought all of the proper bleaches and windex sprays to the forefront to scan her weaponry for the vile death trap. She would have to get in and out quickly, but enough to complete the job. But she found herself procrastinating exasperatingly. She placed her hands on the edge of the tub to keep herself leveled, closing her eyes and taking a sharp intake initially dreading the task in that very moment, the memories immersing. She reached for the faucet but the sound of a motorcycle reaching the parking lot to the bar objected her obligations. In some ways she was dismissed of her dishonorable task, freeing herself from its presence. But she was dismayed at the lack of tact her customers had sometimes. They always resorted to bribery, as if extra tips would subdue her obvious need for rest. She tossed the rags in the sink and wiped her hands on the towel that hung on the rack, feeling filthy after touching that sugar coated abomination.

She descended the stairs and switched the lights on and illuminated the bar that was once swarmed with darkness. She heard a knock at the door, and she exhaled perturbed, striding to the bar door now eager to turn the customer away. He looked anxious, keen to plea with her when she pointed at the closed sign while she grabbed it with her other hand. He wasn't budging, sticking to his well thought out explanation for empathy. She fiddled into her pocket for the key to unlock the door, and only opened the door enough to peek her head out after unlocking the door.

"Please Teef, it's been a long day, I just need one-." The irritation mounted, Tifa had been overwhelmed for months and this wasn't something she had patience for forbearance.

"No Phil, not tonight. I have too much to do. You're gonna have to save the bribery for David's drinks across the street." She shook her head in tandem with her ending statement while pointing her index finger in the direction of the competitive bar, something she had never envisioned herself doing in the past, all while closing the door on his anxiety filled face.

"Tifa!" She wasn't lenient this time, she had allowed her generosity to get the better of her in the past, commiserating too much with the customer's that tried to relate to her problems. Instead of going back on her word with the muffled begging behind her, she retreated, and on her way towards the stairs she spotted the basket full of her folded clothes that had been sitting there collecting dust all day. Cursing under her breath, she decided she would have to remind herself not to give such a half ass job like folding clothes, putting them away; both things that go hand-in-hand, the process did not take much time, but the problem was, she never gave time for herself and her needs. Obsessing over everyone else's necessities and not her own would only lead to more grey hairs.

She trudged up the stairs, not enjoying the added on tasks, and gave the dirtiest glare she could muster up towards the bathroom as she passed like it gave her a death sentence. The clothes were piled high in the laundry basket, just reaching over the tip of her head. It was a heavy load, and the plastic handles began to dig into her palms creating what felt like eternal indents to mark their damage. She began shuffling to the bedroom, wobbling into the room like the basket weighed a ton due to the fatigue from hastening her pace. The room was also dark; the only light percolating through was the light from the hallway. She wondered why they were living like vampires killing off all the lights at night. She dropped the basket to the floor against the wall next to the door like it could've protected herself from expiring. She hadn't realized how tired she was from the day's expenditures until she leaned against the opened door, falling against it until it came to a close. She had her eyes closed, desperately trying to rejuvenate her eyes from overexposure to her pending tasks.

But something felt like it wasn't right, like she should be alert and on guard. She slowly opened her eyes to see a figure in front of her window across the room, the darkness containing any familiarity from view. She rustled for the doorknob and opened it quickly, gaining a combative stance defensively. The moonlight irradiated his hair, a shining raven color. His back was to her, and she was wondering how he was staying perfectly still having trespassed into her safe haven. "What the hell…" It happened so quickly, she had no chance to react calmly; she daringly charged into the dark shadows and took a shot at him barreling into his back, but imagined that he anticipated her next strike because before she could touch a hair on him he grabbed her right hand with his left, his back still stiff against her front. The action was so rapid; his body turning to grab her and then back into his former stance was a blur, his eyes making her dazed. The grip was uncomfortable against her warm skin, and cold, like it had been sitting in a freezer for weeks on end. She ripped it from his grasp, sickened by his ability to determine her actions before they even occurred. She stepped back toward the door of her room, intimidated, but the similarities were riveting. She wondered if it was déjà vu, but once his shoulder began to turn in her direction, she realized what was so conversant.

The same armor from her memory and fearless composure. And then those eyes that glowed like the revolting unforgiving blue fire.

His appearance was like lightning; and he shot right through her.

Her heart tightened like a fist was clenching it in the palm of its hand, a similar feeling she had the night she had lost it all. The butterflies swarming within her belly were all out of sorts, and if she could try and count them all, it would take too much time. The fear was a scream in her head, this man was clearly stronger than her, and his frame towered over her own. She felt like a mouse in a trap, but this was supposed to be her safe zone. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pressed in a hard line infuriated at the tension in the room, the intimidation embarrassing her. She stood her ground. "Come any closer and I'll attack!" She hated how imprudent she sounded, but the words fluttered from her mouth on impulse when he took a step closer towards the light. He blinked his eyes, the darkness covering his entire body except his eyes. He contemplated her proclamation, but that interject hadn't threatened him enough to withdraw his steps from closing in on her.

She knew she'd regret; she knew it might even be the death of her, but a surge of boldness threw her muscles into overdrive, giving everything she got into a fist full of rage towards his right cheek. The blow connected, but didn't affect the man. He took it like a tap on the hand, and indulged it; even taking her hand into his like it was a nice gesture. She coiled and rammed into him as his grip became firmer on her, not enough to hurt, but enough to contain her. He wasn't being forceful, which scared her because she realized he was holding back and not putting all his weight into her like he had earlier at her first bout. She took advantage of his clemency and threw them both back into the dresser and into the light, out of the unnerving shadows. Her face was stuffed into his shoulder, almost suffocated by the backlash to the force of her impact to the dresser. When she struggled to free her eyes from their prison, she caught a glimpse of a familiar earring. A lion. As soon as the light brightened his facial features, and lit his eyes like flames, a glass ball tumbled from the dresser and obliterated on impact.

She jumped at the realization, the face that she hadn't seen in two years. She wished she hadn't jumped back in the same moment the glass ball had made a crash landing, her foot taking a nasty scathe as she frantically scrambled to make a fervent escape from the man that was mysteriously identical to Cloud Strife. He was his exact duplicate, his raven hair being the only thing unfamiliar. His eyes were still, and were incredibly composed. His lips were in a soft line, and his jaw clenched at the sight of the damage to her now bleeding foot. His next motion was unforeseen, but her heart didn't allow her to react, as her eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. She had sucked in a breath that had not yet been released since she had seen his face.

He knelt to her feet and grabbed a hold of her calve when she began to shuffle back again out of reflex.

"Careful, Tifa."

That voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her nerves burned like hot needles had been prickling her skin, her muscles tense and her fists defensive as she braced the dresser like it was a body guard to her aid. He ripped his garment that hid beneath his armor on his left shoulder. He patted the affected area, so gentle in his caring for her freshly opened wound. He finished by ripping a longer piece that exposed his left breast, and tied it around her heel carefully not to aggravate the wound. He was everything Cloud, but also all things mysterious. He was Cloud, but he wasn't. She searched for questions but her voice had been long gone from her, she hadn't expected this sort of reunion, if one would ever occur.

"Cloud?" The only thing her mouth could mutter.

He reached her level again, but he was standing over her, so daunting. His eyes were soft, and they told a story that she couldn't measure, but they told her _yes_, and they also told her _sorry._ But, she wasn't thrilled, and she wasn't devastated, but she was relieved somehow like she had predicted. It didn't dismount the anger and resentment that welled up inside. "Yes, Tifa. It's me." She wouldn't ever know how to respond to that, but she couldn't help but be happy that it really was him, and she wasn't dreaming this up. "For what I've done I am not proud. I'm not your favorite person, but let me explain, from the beginning."

And then it all began… the beginning of the end.

* * *

_**A/N: **_

I know, it's aggravating! Forgive me ;-)

Just one acknowledgement, I know the former Chapter 2 was called "Day Old Hate", but with my new revising to the chapter, it called for a new name. It fit the tone of the chapter better.

R&R!


	3. A Pulse Of The Sea

A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who's been reading and reviewing Darker Cloud so patiently. Lagged it on this chapter, but I'm gonna try more earnestly to get the chapters out more quick. Forgive me ahead of time. Hope this chapter makes up for lost time. Enjoy!

* * *

_He knelt to her feet and grabbed a hold of her calve when she began to shuffle back again out of reflex._

_"Careful, Tifa."_

_That voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her nerves burned like hot needles had been prickling her skin, her muscles tense and her fists defensive as she braced the dresser like it was a body guard to her aid. He ripped his garment that hid beneath his armor on his left shoulder. He patted the affected area, so gentle in his caring for her freshly opened wound. He finished by ripping a longer piece that exposed his left breast, and tied it around her heel carefully not to aggravate the wound. He was everything Cloud, but also all things mysterious. He was Cloud, but he wasn't. She searched for questions but her voice had been long gone from her, she hadn't expected this sort of reunion, if one would ever occur._

_"Cloud?" The only thing her mouth could mutter._

_He reached her level again, but he was standing over her, so daunting. His eyes were soft, and they told a story that she couldn't measure, but they told her __yes__, and they also told her __sorry.__ But, she wasn't thrilled, and she wasn't devastated, but she was relieved somehow like she had predicted. It didn't dismount the anger and resentment that welled up inside. "Yes, Tifa. It's me." She wouldn't ever know how to respond to that, but she couldn't help but be happy that it really was him, and she wasn't dreaming this up. "For what I've done I am not proud. I'm not your favorite person, but let me explain, from the beginning."_

Even though the events happened very carefully and coherently, they were a swirled blur for Tifa. Her heel was devastated and helpless with Cloud's efforts to clean up the wound. Her body ached at his touch, fear to be captive at his grasp. Tifa was trembling without equanimity, and suddenly her body was chilling with goose bumps. She felt sweat drip down the back of her neck, which puzzled her because she was so cold. And with his frame shadowing over her, she leaned down, shying away from his warm ambiance that emanated from his muscular body that was closing over hers. He was just way too close… This was Cloud, or was it? How could it be true? "At the Fundraiser… you.. you were that guy?" She unsettled herself at her own inquiry, her mind forgetting the fresh injury that was now bleeding through the tourniquet he bowed nicely around her heel. She made the greatest mistake in her second attempt to distance their proximity by leaning back and taking a step towards the doorway, her heel slipping because of the blood that seeped through the fabric.

Before she could yelp in reaction to her mishap, Cloud's hand wrapped firmly around her waist, his fingertips barely missing her slim hip when Tifa moved her body to brace herself by fetching for the dresser. It was an awkward moment of silence, her eyes never vacillating in their steadied ponder into his mako eyes, glowing ever so brilliantly. He brought her back to her feet gently, but his hand held the back of her knee firmly, keeping it from creating another inconvenience. "Yes, I was there." Her eyes were focused on him even though he was relieving her injured heel of the old wrapping that was clearly not doing its job efficiently. She gave him a curious glance, wanting him to give her a detailed elucidation. "I've been in Midgar a week already." She flinched at his concession, it knocked the air from her lungs, and her expression changed to inevitable anger. "I was there, but not to spy. I hadn't preplanned a way to, do this… And this isn't exactly the way I wanted to do it, either. I knew I wouldn't come home to a warm welcoming, but I was prepared for that. I had to try, even if you turned me away. I apologize for the appearance at the fundraiser…" All the words he spoke didn't register, but his comment that involved the words "come home". It was strange, that word, especially coming from his mouth.

"So you were just in town and decided to drop by?" Her voice was intolerant and merciless; he broke their shared glance and breathed in gathering a retort. She knew she couldn't be naïve with him, the years that passed had taught her to protect her exterior, which had been easily torn down before. It would not be like before; it would never be the same.

"Tifa, I didn't go to upset you. I just…" He wasn't sure he wanted to tell her the truth, but he knew he couldn't lie to her about it. She would know, because she was speculative, more than she had ever been. She wasn't pulling any punches, but he took it like it was something special, he knew he deserved it. She was being polite, in his eyes. Things could be worse; he could be the one bleeding. Ugh, he knew how to really screw things up. He gave her wounded foot a pained expression, apologizing with his eyes once more. He grabbed a towel from the laundry behind her door that she had abandoned moments earlier, ignoring her irate exhale and began petting the affected area with gentle caution. "The first time I arrived in Midgar, I came around. And I saw Vincent, here." Tifa paused, waiting for him to continue with suspense she was sure he could feel in the rigid posture of her ankle. "I supposed that he was visiting, but that was me jumping to conclusions. I began to notice little things, how he would leave in the morning, but be back at night. Taking the kids to school…"

Tifa watched him in questioning stillness. "I know I sound like I stalked you, but I had to be sure, before I interrupted your life. I wasn't precisely professional in my scrutiny, Denzel caught me once. And he was very perturbed with me." Tifa opened her mouth in surprise. Denzel saw Cloud and never said anything? "He was speculative, just as you are now, but much more unforgiving. He wanted to hurt me, like you had been hurt, he made sure that I knew he wouldn't be forgiving me anytime soon. But I could tell I upset him similarly with my leave. And it was important to him, the fundraiser I mean. I made a promise without thinking about how it would affect anyone else, and for that, I'm sorry." It all connected, and she couldn't be angry with him anymore for showing up and avoiding this situation. She couldn't help but think of Denzel having the return of Cloud on his little conscious. She felt so selfish, not even noticing anything different in the way he spent larger amounts of time out front the apartment, like he was waiting for something. She always shrugged it off.

"I didn't leave you guys for a vacation, Tifa. You need to know this." Tifa put up her hand to silence his story; she couldn't handle more than she already had become aware of. The loss of blood was making her queasy, she was used to gore, from all of the battles she had experienced, but the loss of her own blood all the while being overwhelmed was enough to bear. Cloud wasn't going to push it, he could see the fatigue in the bags that formed underneath her eyes, and he hated how there was no right way to do this. He finished tying the towel around her heel and got up to her level once more, looking down at her even though her eyes were reluctant to face him. "I'm sorry, I should've realized that this is a lot on you all at once."

"Stop apologizing." She met his gaze, and regretted it, how it softened her. She forgot how much she missed them, the anger had clouded over the first stage of depression had disintegrated, and she had been terrified to recite the love that had burned inside her resiliently. But she pushed the thoughts to the darkest part of her mind, replaced with the rage and resentment. Safe place. "That's what I really can't stand. It isn't that easy. Not anymore. Don't waste those words on me." And he deserved that too, along with the gesture, her back to him as she exited her room to descend the stairs for a proper tourniquet. She didn't want her kids to see her like this; it would send them into a whirlwind of worry. She felt like a burglary victim, and it felt like she had been burglarized. Cloud followed her, he was sure she had had it with him, and was ready to throw him out like a loose dog. He wanted her to do it, to make him suffer like she had been. No damage he had created seemed like it could be surpassed, and he didn't pardon himself for it.

They were downstairs, and Tifa was nearing the bar when she could hear his voice break the silence a short distance behind her. He had stopped in his footsteps a few feet away from her. "I won't lie to you Tifa, because you deserve the truth. Some of it you won't forgive me for, but some of it you'll understand because you would've done the same, like you've done in the past." There was never going to be a perfect time for either of them, he knew that much, and so did she. Tifa may have not been ready to hear it, overwhelmed to the bout of exhaustion, but she would always be sick of this, and to the inescapable predicament. This would never be the same between them, and that's why he chose to continue. She could yell and scream at him, and kill him if she so pleased, because at the end of it he decided he would leave her like she wished him to. He would do whatever she asked, but before he'd concede to anything, she would have to undergo the blunt truth.

"I left because I was confused; I was dissatisfied with the truth of their fatalities." He didn't have to say any names because she was sure she knew what he was referring to. "At first I just left to answer some of my own curiosities, to explore boundless possibilities, I wasn't resting until I knew what I could and couldn't fix. It turned into late night deliveries, and those turned into weekend long excursions… I know I wasn't being fair leaving you and the kids for such long periods of time, but I was comfortable with how the excuses would sate you. And eventually, the delivery business got in the way of my searches. I either abused one or the other copiously because of forsaking one for too long. It took me a while to make a decision, but in the end, to leave for a more in depth investigation was my choice." She closed her eyes, his concession sinking in. Even though she had suspected the reason long before, the words confirming it still had a familiar pang of torment, the discomfort sinking in. She clenched her jaw, the anger so hot beneath her skin. She balled her hands into fists; ready to scream at him if that would release all of the anger threatening to burst through every pore of her body.

"Wait Tifa, I'm not finished." His plea didn't catch up with her, her anger outrun his endeavor at redeeming himself.

"Could there be more than that?" She raised her voice squinting her eyes with unthinkable fury, standing up on her toes to express her teeming wrath.

"Yes. Give me a second to explain it all, before you decide to update my expiration date." He paused to let her calm down, and she grew still, her eyes softening. She said nothing, so he continued before giving her a chance to interrupt. "I only planned to be gone a month. When I left, I left. There wasn't a way I knew how to do it, nothing seemed right, because it was wrong. I knew that, but I took the risk anyway, it felt worth it at the time. I was so close to discovering everything." At this point, she just wanted it to be over, if this was his way of getting renovation and reinventing his reputation with her he had a horrid way of getting it back. She started to regret what her former wish used to be, maybe she really didn't want all of her questions to be answered, and being confused was much more comfortable. She could barely fit all of this information in her brain. It felt fairly small at the moment. "But I found something far more important than what I was searching for, something that could change this world as we know it, something that jeopardizes the lives of those who inhabit it."

Tifa stared at him, puzzled, moving closer engaged in his revelation. She began to forget what this whole conversation was purposed for in the first place, curiously encouraged to learn more. But Cloud wasn't continuing his revelation; instead his attention was elsewhere, like there was a silent disturbance. Her eyes were focused on Cloud, like the reason would somehow show itself upon his face. When she noticed his stare was towards something behind her, her eyes followed the distraction, and there stood Vincent Valentine, no word could classify the expression on his face when he spotted Cloud Strife.

He stood in the doorway, silently asphyxiated by the appearance of Cloud Strife, stifling back the urge to attain vendetta. For a few aggravating moments, Cloud and Vincent's eyes were locked and didn't stagger until Vincent looked to Tifa for enlightenment, but she was looking from Cloud to Vincent for any sort of reaction as the silence raged on. Vincent never expected this, to be exact, he was completely positive this was out of the question. All the progress he had made with Tifa seemed to disappear, somehow translucent. The mountain he had been tackling had lost its terrain and he was in darkness unable to find a way back to his endurable incline. He saw no sign of worry on Tifa's expression, which made him relax a little. But there was something in her posture, something of discomposure. He located it quickly thereafter, the dry blood present on her ankle. Tifa had no idea when the events occurred, but a quick gust of wind blew her hair from her shoulder, and Cloud was against the wall, Vincent's gauntlet gripped securely around his throat. Vincent's eyes never left Cloud's, intent on killing him ridden in his death grip, if eyes could kill…

"You come back to finish her off? As if you hadn't done enough?" Vincent's words dripped with venomous apathy, his eyes arbitrating the man in his hold incredulously. Vincent's claws grazed over every increment of Cloud's neck but somehow incredibly maintained his inconceivable grip. Cloud had no expression, no reaction, no sign of distress or fear. He almost looked comfortable bond by the man shaking with anger. He stayed so still, the moments ticked on by which penetrated Tifa waiting in stillness for something to destroy her.

"Vincent he did-"Vincent interrupted her assertion by ramming Cloud into the wall with vigorous force, creating a crack splitting down the wall. His golden gauntlet grazed his adams apple, getting a firmer grip despite Cloud's nonchalant behavior in response to the treatment. Vincent took the breast of his armor in his other hand that was still in human tact, gaining control over Cloud's movement keeping him in restraint while his gauntlet threatened to rip his throat from his very neck. The idea teased him, provoking a his aggressive quest.

"I didn't come here to answer to you. Now stop your thoughtlessness before this turns into something it shouldn't." The damage was irreversible, that much was candid in Vincent's eager firm palm digging into Cloud's seemingly unbreakable skin. His thirst for vengeance was a heat so bright and uncomfortable around them, even Tifa curled her toes at the inescapable ire. Cloud's sudden grip on Vincent could easily be seen as a clout, his strength combating with Vincent's unwillingness to retreat his threat. "This isn't your concern." Cloud's voice penetrated the silence that had washed over them, and the quiet that followed thereafter picked at Vincent's bone, in recognition of Tifa's silent agreement. He could sense this battle could not be fought by anyone other than Tifa. It was always hers to title, and his violence couldn't take her initials from the bullet.

Tifa closed her eyes, biting her tongue and abhorring herself all at once. "Vincent…" He never detested hearing his name on her voice so much it sent a wretched coil swarming in his abdomen, the feeling of letting a despicable man escape his eligible death. His claw shook as he forced himself to unclamp from Cloud's throat, the sharp tips of his gauntlet clawing at his neck that barely left an indent that it had been scathed. Tifa chewed at her lip, the anticipation of his actions encouraging heat throughout her body. She couldn't see his expression, but his posture bled of his indignation, and she bit back remorse.

"Then I have no business being here." Vincent looked at Tifa from the corner of his eye, directed at the both of them. And it was so cold again, the same feeling that frazzled her earlier. She was so embarrassed by her current betrayal, the obvious protection she was giving Cloud because of her inconclusive inquiries. She couldn't fight her impulse to coax him to stay, her loyal body guard from day 1 of torment. She was held between heaven and hell, her heart combating with her mind. Vincent earnestly turned for the stairs, leaving her behind in the darkness. The abandonment encouraged her to walk after him, but her steps weren't as enthusiastic as Vincent's were, weakening short of the stairs.

"This is his concern… He's been the only reason I'm still here, the only reason the kids still feel safe." Her body was stiff with her back to him, feeling the regret spilling over her. It may have been her only mistake of the night, not acknowledging that Vincent was just as much a part of this than they gave him credit for. Cloud nodded in silent byline, trusting that it was better to understand what he hadn't experienced in the year that he was absent, and that it was unimaginable. She took her leave up the stairs to meet Vincent in his room; she touched the doorframe to brace her for what he had already accomplished. All his things were gone from the closet, and a medium sized suitcase was adorned with his things. His eyes strayed from her intermission; solid in his resolve. She walked to his side, closing the suitcase and buckling it; she turned around and sat on it when he reached to grab the handle. She shook her head and grabbed his forearm. "You don't have to leave."

Vincent's frame towered over her, her face barely meeting above his waistline as her shadowed her. "It's not a choice." Her eyes seared at that, and her heart shook, trying to make out why she had to allow bad things to follow good things. She had used this man as a crutch, but he was much more than that. She was indolent to admit it, but there was no word to express how important he had been to her, and would continue to be. She let her fingers soften against his arm and slip off, unable to beg him against his wishes.

"You don't have to. At least not like this. Just give it some time to-" His eyes finally met hers, and they burned into her soul. She finally found her mistake, and it happened so easily. She stared back into his eyes seeing the result of this decision. Letting Cloud back in was shutting this man out, he just couldn't handle letting a man go unpunished for his sins. But she couldn't stroke his vendetta, and she felt strong enough to let go and to pursue the unknown, even without her crutch. She couldn't abuse the privilege of being saved, the serenity of relying on a separate soul. Even as her eyes watered, and her lip softly trembled, her decision stuck. As much as she felt the power from the self-inflicted torture, she couldn't rip herself from her own tenacity and curiosities. She looked away becoming coy to her emotion; Vincent didn't do well with it. He hesitated, and then brushed her hair out of her face and behind her ear.

"This is not something I want to stand around and watch unfold." His words turned her into stone, and her lips opened to speak but nothing ever came to be audible. He hushed her with his eyes as they bore into her soul once more, his hand grabbing her shoulder to steady her as she lost balance taking in his words. "I've watched you agonize enough, with confidences that it would one day decrease…" Her eyes were wet and her body was numbing against his touch, but his grip faltered and found a new place on the suitcase she was coveting. "But if this is what you have chosen, than you need to proceed on your own. I simply can't continue by your side, it's not in me." She got up, her body nearly grazing his as his implications were strong. He grabbed the handle of the suitcase and brought it to his side, and looked down at her despite her lack of strength to look at him. "Please, take care of yourself." He grabbed her chin softly with a delicate touch that happened too quickly for her liking, and he was gone from the room before she could react. Her eyes let the waters fall, and she wept so quietly, for the man that always got what he didn't deserve. For a man that lacked emotions, he cared so powerfully that it cracked his steel exterior, and she couldn't judge him by the demon any longer.

* * *

Three months passed painfully slow, which felt a lot more like three decades. Seventh heaven was silent, everyone living on the tips of their toes. When everything else was gone, there was no more cane. With Cloud's return, he still felt absent with Tifa's refusal to let him back in. The children had lost their only "factual" guardian male figure. Denzel acted a lot more like the new man of the house, taking on more chores and relisting orders for Tifa without her knowledge. He had taken on impossible maturity. Against her will Cloud had taken on the delivery business again when Tifa unintentionally missed a few runs due to her late night searches for Vincent's whereabouts, there was still no sign of the man… not even a purchase. If the man was alive he must be living off of reserves. She couldn't forgive herself for using the knife in her back, without even noticing. She hadn't opened her mind to the bigger picture, the one where she was shunning the man that had given her a second chance to live again, to right wrongs, to bandage a heart that would just continue to bleed. She felt as if she was witnessing the past with an evil twist, the lovely man abandoning her but he's not the star role playing the villain. This time Tifa Lockhart had ran him off with her insensitive lack of consideration, but her drive for rehashing an old flame and all its dying glory thrusting the dagger in deeper.

"_Please, take care of yourself."_ She rewound and played those words over in her mind, his last command before he took his leave. Would it be his last? Those words always turned into a nightmare, she would overthink, run herself ragged and it would begin a senseless innocent dream. Vincent Valentine a normal house guest tending to her needs and to wounds that could barely be weathered, but despite the difficulty he took the trouble. But she relives moments she didn't recall by recognizing herself as an ungrateful selfish brute using him for a route to sate the pain, to satisfy the loss she experienced, to gain strength to find another way. But she realized her resolve was so crooked, that she kept hoping instead of letting go. That she knew Cloud wouldn't want to return to a depressed, inane alcoholic, that if he was watching her now he'd rethink his decision to come back. A part of her held onto the thought of crawling out of the darkness for a possible life with Cloud back in the future, and Vincent was the only guy to rely on to get her to that point, to get a healthy Tifa reborn. He believed in her too much to give up on that upshot.

"_Be careful Tifa, the world can be an unfriendly place." Vincent's voice was incredibly cold, it made her bitterly uncomfortable, she twitched from the remembrance of his tone. His eyes were in sync with his lips, bleeding the same icy unkindness. "You'll experience it without me this time…" Her heart stung, but she didn't understand it this time. It was a different emotion… "And maybe you'll survive long enough to tell your story. Maybe even long enough to regret decisions and to make better ones." She didn't understand what he was going on about or why. "But tell me Tifa… whose going to scrape you off the pavement when you've become the bottle's loyal servant?" And she felt the pinch of anger leak into her heart, washed over with hurt and resentment in regards to her former self. "Whose going to wipe the vomit from your face when you've thrown your anger into drunken bouts? Or when you've abandoned the very people who've stood by you when you were the most pitiful version of yourself?" Vincent had never spoken to her like this, with such unmanned bitterness; she couldn't trigger a memory this ruthless. "But wait, here's the best question… Who's going to pull your head above water when you've slipped under the deep end, huh?"_

_The hot tears found their way spilling, and he was relentless, gathering the nerve to step closer towards her to get a few more blows in. He was angry, but boy was he furious, she sensed no forgiveness for her senseless behavior. "Think about it, really. If I would've stood by as a bystander instead of your loyal servant, you wouldn't be breathing as you are today." He put his cold palm to her chest to evaluate her heartbeat, eying it with his stony expression filled with the deepest shade of apathy. "I was the only one to accommodate you when Cloud disappeared as fast as a speeding bullet. I was the only one to guide you through unimaginable pain. I was the only one to watch and rescue a lost cause. I was the only one… the only one to love you in that wretched state." Tifa's eyes widened as the tears kept rolling, and the dagger took its last stretch into her chest. The resentment rushing back like a tidal wave, she had never changed the person she became when Cloud left, she just sated the outward version of it for her children, for her friends, but never for herself. She remained that person out of weakness, out of looking back and never giving herself the chance to look forward._

_Suddenly they were cliff-side, and the wind was unforgiving, coaxing her body closer to the edge, his palm never leaving her chest. "So why don't we live as if I never existed during the dark period…"His voice became more menacing, the voice of a premeditated vengeful broken man. _

"_Vincent I never-" Vincent's voice tore her from her words of compensation. _

"_There's NO necessity for forgiveness Tifa! When the world gives you pain, you return the favor!" His words gripped her as he grabbed her firmly by the shoulders tipping her heels on the edge of the cliff, dangling her over the side. Tifa screamed with overwhelming pain from his rough grip and determination to decease her. "And in your case, I'm re-doing what was undone… I'm giving you a second chance to make decisions, but this time as if I didn't exist."Tifa whimpered screaming back to startle his actions._

"_Vincent! Wait… There may be no necessity for forgiveness, but there is a necessity to tell the truth. I never did before; let me do it now before it's too late…" Tifa grabbed him by the arms that held on to her shoulders as if they granted him some sort of privilege, her nails digging into the cold skin to get through to him. His eyes burned into hers, concentrating and reading their merit, but his expression changed, and she felt her life in his hands, slipping away when he drops her gaze._

"_It's already too late…"He gripped her firmer. "Take this as a favor. Giving you back what I took away. Because without me you wouldn't have survived!" His claw digged into one shoulder and whipped her over the cliff. And as she started to plummet she closed her eyes to accept her demise. But the weight of Vincent never left her, and she figured she was delusional as she had been all along. But his voice in her ear startled and terrified her. "And without you, neither will I…" _

She jumped up reentering reality and escaping the revolting dream. Her entire body went into an uncontrollable tremble, and she instantly grabbed her shoulder in the area where his claw dug into her skin, but no wound, not as much as an abrasion. Tifa shivered shaking her head and biting her lip severely in deep disgust at the nightmare, at herself. She pulled her knees up to her chin, ruffling the sheets on her bed, coming to a realization that someone had moved her. She had fallen asleep on the couch downstairs hours earlier. Her breath hitched, and then gained composure catching a figure shadowing in the corner sitting against the wall. She closed her eyes choking back the dream, and brought herself back to confront Cloud this time. He had been doing this ever so often, but usually he leaves before she can notice he was ever there in the first place. "You have to stop doing this, Cloud."

Her voice interrupted his short slumber, his mako eyes shot open immediately after her voice broke silence, startling her a bit; making her rock back on her heels as she was trying to stay balanced kneeled in front of him. "Maybe when you start giving me reasonable chances to see Denzel and Marlene, to make amends… I'll stop having to sneak around here. I had to make my own way if you won't let me in, Tifa."

"Look, there's just too much that's going on to focus on, THIS." Tifa turns away from Cloud standing up to walk across the room to the edge of her bed to breathe. She exhales while stroking her hand through her dark locks trying to rid the images of the nightmare from her racing mind. "It's not all about us reconciling. The world revolves around a lot more than this. Marlene and Denzel deserve better…" Cloud was watching her from the corner, his head tilting a little to catch her excuse, his lips curving a little and his mouth letting out a breathless huff, not believing her story for a second.

Cloud took a spot in front of Tifa and stood in front of her, staring down. "Your right, they do deserve better. But that isn't what this is about." Tifa was staring in the distance, unable to catch him staring at her. She smiled sarcastically shaking her head denying his allegations. "Don't play this game Tifa, years have passed but that doesn't mean I don't know you anymore. I can see right through the exterior." Cloud professed with conviction. Tifa bit her tongue, her anger starting to radiate when he made this comment, her eyes slowly turning to catch his gaze. How could he possibly act like he knows the person she is at present? "Denzel told me… that you had some bad moments, rougher than most, and that Vincent was always there to help you through it. I know that you were close to him…That he helped, balance you out…" It panged her to listen to him speak in the past tense. She closed her eyes to fight her seething, returning her gaze to her hands quivering in her lap. "I know I've ruined that closeness by coming back. And I know that you not only resent me for his leave, but you've been punishing yourself also." He knelt down to buy back her gaze but she turned away, repelled that he would try to discover a reason for her behavior and try to make sense of her world when he, of all people, had chosen to desert it.

"Don't talk to me like you suddenly give a rats ass about it all, Cloud." She used her words with such venom and stress, a wounded side of light. "Yes, you're here. But that's not proof that you're suddenly someone better. You are still a coward hiding behind twisted curiosities. And I'm sorry I'm not going to just let you back into our lives like you didn't just leave us behind like temporary tenants in yours." She blew past him, her unrelenting umbrage evident as she opened the door to encourage him to take his leave, once again. "We faired just fine without you before, there's no reason for that not to continue just because you woke up one day and decided it'd be nice to come back."

He gave a soft nod, understood, and walked slowly over to her to accompany her accusations. Before withdrawing, he looked to her to say one last thing. "You won't admit it, but it's important to you. And because of that, I'll find him." Tifa was startled by this exposé, her eyes turning on him with this current development. "I can't stand that I'm the man to haunt your dreams Tifa. I'm the key to all of the pain in your head; pain I don't think can ever be refunded. For that I won't stop trying Tifa. I will keep trying to repay my debt until they burry me. And if it keeps proving to not amount, well then I'll try harder, enough to overwhelm you. I won't expect your forgiveness; not even reconciliation. All I want is to see you and the kids content, and safe. I'll never forsake that, never again…" He took one last look into her eyes, and then reluctantly left her side and out the door into the cold midnight weather.

In the distance, blood red eyes glowed watching the man walk away from Seventh Heaven, his arms crossed in secret. He was gone, but had not forgotten what had occurred months ago. Although he may not be in her life, he wanted to remain aware of everything that was going on. Through connections and his own eyes, he was keeping tabs. He had a new resolve, not only to keep Tifa alive, but to find out everything on this new Cloud Strife. To uncover his secrets, his whereabouts over that year absence, and to figure out why he was back. Because it was severely obvious that Cloud Strife had bigger reasons why he was back in Midgar.

* * *

Thanks again for your tolerance on my tardiness! R&R my darlings. Till' next time! ^^


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